Psychotic Irishmen and 14 year olds don't mix
by Beatrice Holmes
Summary: Sherlock's little sister moves in. Moriarty notices. Cut a long story short: Complete Chaos/Pandemonium. I can't write summaries to save my life. T because, well just because.
1. Introductory helicopter nature shot

**Hello m'dears! Hope y'all like this one. Set between 'A Scandal in Belgravia' and 'The Hounds of the Baskervilles'. I have a deerstalker, which just so happened to A: have come from 221b itself and B: it's the same pattern as Sherlock's. Your argument is invalid.**

 **Much love~ Beatrice Holmes**

"Mycroft! There is no possible way you are looking after her, you'd drive her insane, you did enough of that when you were at home! Send her here immediately" Sherlock Holmes hung up angrily and flopped into his armchair.

"Should I even ask?" John muttered, wandering into the living room, a cup of tea in his hand. Sherlock grunted in reply. "What disaster have you caused now, broken his favourite action man? Nicked all his Smurfs?" John laughed at Sherlock's horrified expression. "We are going to have a new flatmate. I think." Sherlock muttered, his baritone voice barely audible. The doorbell rang, and for once, the great Sherlock Holmes opened went to answer it.

"Jaawn! Come here please!" Sherlock hollered from the bottom of the stairs.

'Oh God. He said please. He's probably broken something.' John thought, easing himself out of his chair. He got to the bottom of the stairs and found something that he never thought we would see. A tall young girl with short dark brown curly hair and pale skin was clinging to Sherlock, enveloping him in a death hug. "Who the hell's that?" John asked, his brow creased, and the confusion obvious on his face. The girl let go of Sherlock and bounded towards John.

"Hi! Name's Beatrice Holmes! I'm Sherly's little sister. I was gonna go to Mikey's, but Sherly didn't let that happen, he knows how much I hate Mikey." She babbled, occasionally brushing her dark curls out of her face. The girl picked up a black duffel bag, and a dark blue duffel coat. She ran up the stairs and stopped in the middle of the living room. "Wow. Sherly, I didn't know you had such a nice house. The boarding house is nowhere near as nice as this. There are rats in the cupboards." she said matter-of-factly. She sat down heavily on the couch, which John took as a chance to pull Sherlock into the kitchen and shut the door.

"Why is she in our house? Who is she? You never told be you had a little sister? How old is she? Why aren't your parents looking after?" John hissed, keeping his voice low. Sherlock leaned against the table and sigh deeply.

"She's living with us because the boarding school she was attending wasn't safe. You heard her mention the rats. She's turning fourteen this July. My Mother and Father have always hated her. She was even weirder than me and Mycroft, at least that's what they thought. She wasn't cold hearted like the rest of us. She'd always be trying to play with the other kids, and then the next minute she'd be screaming with anger. She hated all of us, except me, because I let her sneak into my room, and I talked to her. She was my only friend. Then they shipped her off to a disgusting boarding school. Do you want to know why? I overheard them saying how derelict it was, and that she'd probably die or something. She's staying." The anger in Sherlock's voice rose, and John decided that it was not a fabulous idea to disagree with him.

~o0o~

"Sir. There's been a development." a man with an American accent said, addressing a man who was sitting in the shadows.

"Yes what?" asked the man, his Irish drawl prominent.

"Sir. Mr Holmes now has a girl living with him and Dr. Watson. Our source says it's his little sister. She's in perfect heath, and is enjoying her time at Baker st."

"Well, we've got to do something about that haven't we?" the man leaned back into his chair, a small smile playing on his lips….

 **Prize for who ever guesses who the Irish dude is!**


	2. Punches thrown and actions taken

**Hiya y'all! Hope y'all are ha in' a great holidays! Here be the second chappie m'hearties! Music is my inspiration! Thank God for the Fratellis, Green Day, Of Monsters and Men and Maroon 5! ~Beatrice Holmes**

Dr John Watson sat in his armchair with a cup of coffee in his hand. It was about nine in the morning, and neither of the Holmes had yet to make an appearance. There was a thud, a scuffling noise, and Beatrice stumbled into view. She fumbled around and walked straight in the wall. She uttered a few choice swear words, and flopped onto the couch. "My friggin _head_!" She muttered, curling up into a ball and then falling off the couch. Her grey shorts and faded _'Barenaked_ Ladies' t-shirt were too small for her, and the fact that she was barely concsious, didn't help her situation. She stood up with her back to the Windows, and was then flung forwards by a sudden _explosion._ "Bloody Hell!" She grumbled, plucking a disturbingly large piece of glass from her back, wincing when she noticed the large amount of blood it was covered in. "Well _that_ certainly woke me up!" She said brightly, and leaped up in the direction of the kitchen. John just sat there, relatively unharmed by the explosion, and took a sip of his coffee, like what had just transpired was completely normal. Sherlock wandered in, in nothing but a sheet, surveyed the surroundings, and lay down on the couch. Beatrice walked back in with a mug of coffee, saw Sherlock on the couch and pouted. "Sherlock! I was sitting there." When her older brother was unresponsive, she shrugged and sat down in Sherlock's armchair. "What just happened?" John asked, breaking the silence. "This girl wanders in, half conscious, and then there's a bloody explosion, and to top it all off, she swears like a sailor!" He asked, his voice rising.

~o0o~

"Hi _freak_." Donovan sneered as John, Sherlock and Beatrice walked into Scotland Yard. Beatrice heard her, and her face was the perfect example of horror. John and Sherlock didn't even register the punch, they just saw Donovan stumble backwards, clutching her nose. " _Never talk to my brother like that ever again._ " She said flatly, then turned on heel and walked off, closely followed by John and Sherlock. Once they were out of earshot, Sherlock shocked John by muttering to Beatrice, "Nice one Tris." And sneakily high fiveing her.

"You said you had a case for us?" Sherlock asked, as he glided into the office of DpI Gregory Lestrade. "Ah, Sherlock, there you are, this ones got us all baffled-" Sherlock rolled his eyes "-Four dead, one shot, one beheaded, two disembowelled and the last one Found covered in undetonated Semtex an arm's reach from the door. Said door locked from the inside, and no signs of a forced entry. Oh, and there's a letter addressed to you Sherlock." Lestrade handed Sherlock a neat envelope with a wax seal. He took a knife from the inside of his coat and opened it carefully. 'Two pets now, my, my we are greedy! JM xxx' Sherlock paled, and whipped out his phone. "Mycroft-" he paused, staring out the window. He put down his phone and turned to Lestrade, John and Beatrice. "The game is on." He said simply and waltzed out...


End file.
